Gloria's Secret by Nelle L'Amour Page B

Scrunching it in his hand, he pulled down the diamond-studded thong with the other. I held on to his broad shoulder for balance as I stepped out of it. Embarrassment seeped through me. The crotch was now drenched.
    He bent over, retrieved his prize and, to my shock, put the soaking wet undergarment to his nose. He inhaled deeply. “I don’t think I’m going to wash these.”
    I donned my dress, not bothering to put my underwear back on. I swept the lacy pieces up in my hands; he didn’t need more souvenirs.
    “Thanks for dinner.” I rushed the words and pivoted toward the door. My body was still throbbing from my head to my toes.
    He tugged my braid hard, holding me back. I spun around to face him “Let go of me.”
    Gripping my braid, he roped me in closer to him. So close, his breath heated my cheeks. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
    “I have a busy day. Store visits. Our Fifth Avenue store is our largest. I’ll be there all afternoon.”
    “Ah, Gloria. All work, no play. I’m going to change that.” He did the hair thing again—coiling my braid around his hand. “The hotel has a splendid pool on the top floor. Meet me there at six a.m. when it opens. No one will be there except us. We’ll have it all for ourselves…have a little fun and get in some exercise… maybe burn off this meal.”
    He let me go. As my weak legs carried me to the door, he breathily said, “Don’t be late.”
    “I never am.” I didn’t turn back to look at him but knew his glimmering eyes were lingering on me, his smile cocky from his little victory.
    As I limped down the hallway to my suite, he called out to me. “Hey, Gloria. Happy Valentine’s Day.
    A smile that he couldn’t see curled on my lips. Confession: It was the best Valentine’s Day I’d ever had.

Chapter 8
    I thought for sure that I would meet him at the elevator, but he wasn’t there. I was wearing the plush white terry-cloth robe that came with the room over a Gloria’s Secret bright red bandeau bathing suit; it was cut in a way that made my long legs look even longer. I had also packed a bikini but decided on the one-piece because it was more comfortable and enabled me to swim fast without any worry of it falling off. Besides, no bikini could compete with the diamond-studded underwear I’d worn last night. Unable to force that memory away, I pressed the elevator button and, when the doors slid open, headed up to the pool. I stared down at sparkly flip-flops on my feet—one of our bestsellers last summer—trying impossibly hard not to concentrate on the throbbing that lingered between my thighs.
    To my surprise, he was already doing laps up and down the Olympic-size pool when I showed up. His form was beautiful…long elegant strokes with his brawny arms and long tapered fingers and powerful kicks that spliced the water with little splashes. Upon catching sight of me on a breath, he finished his lap and lifted himself out of the pool. Dripping wet, his soaked hair slicked back, he broke into that dazzling smile. “Good morning, Gloria. I’m looking forward to our swim together and to seeing you all wet.”
    My heart skipped a beat. This was the first time I’d seen him without his clothes on—well, almost without his clothes on. He was wearing one of those latex Speedos made for racing that exposed a body that could belong to an Olympic champion. His shoulders were broad; his chest chiseled, his arms sculpted, and his legs long and muscular. For sure, a body of steel. A fine layer of dark hair coated his limbs and, descended from his amazing pecs to the most fabulous V-section I’d ever seen on a man. The package between his toned thighs was sizeable—actually, make that, monstrous—and sent shudders through me. The throbbing between my legs intensified; I could actually hear the thrumming like a heartbeat.
    “C’mon, I’ll race you for dinner. The winner of two out of three laps gets to pick a restaurant; the loser gets to pay.”
    “What